Out of this World

Crisp and smiling in the olive drab uniform of a Soviet air force major, Yuri Gagarin bounced out of an Aeroflot turbojet at London Airport to help publicize Moscow's Trade Fair, and all Britain gave him a tumultuous welcome. Thousands lined the 14-mile route into London for a look at the world's first cosmonaut, cheered and chanted "Gagarin" as his motorcade swept by. Standing in an open silver Rolls-Royce with a specially issued license plate "YG-1," Yuri waved and grinned. When he turned into Kensington High Street, the crowd broke through the police barriers to surge into the street. Watching 100 yds. away behind the fence of Kensington Palace, a lone figure waved: Princess Margaret, who had waited half an hour to glimpse Yuri.

Everywhere he went during his five-day stay, cheering crowds swarmed about him. Yuri invariably handled them with all the charm and poise of a professional diplomat (unlike Britain's protocol department, which was put into such a blue funk by Yuri's uninvited, unofficial visit that it sent only a minor civil servant to the airport to greet him). At a press conference in the Trade Fair's fashion hall, so many Yuri fans crashed in that Fleet Street newshawks, among the world's most agile and aggressive, barely got in any professional questions. Instead, Yuri tactfully fielded such inane queries as whether he has nightmares (answer: no). When Gagarin explained that he might visit Poland and Cuba next, a little man leaped on a chair to shout: "We will kiss our Gagarin if he comes to Cyprus."

Top Down. A woman asked about using women for space exploration. Yuri, his blue eyes twinkling, was all gallantry: It might be useful, since "a woman's appreciation of beauty is more developed than that of a man. If a flight seems beautiful to a man, it would seem even more so to a woman." How did he feel about becoming a celebrity? "I am still an ordinary mortal. My gold star, Hero of the Soviet Union medal, bears the number 11,175. That means 11,174 people accomplished something very notable before me." Before the mob scene was over, a dozen women had swooned under the combined impact of the crush and Yuri's sex appeal.

On a visit to Manchester in a driving rain, Yuri took one look at the waiting crowds and insisted the top be kept down on his Bentley convertible for the drive into the city. "If they can stand in the rain,'' he said, "so can I." The Amalgamated Union of Foundry Workers presented him with an honorary membership medal inscribed "Moulding Together for a Better World." Replied onetime Metalworker Yuri graciously: "I am still a foundry worker at heart."

By week's end the spaceman's boyish smile and unfailing modesty had conquered all Britain. Queen Elizabeth had him for lunch at Buckingham Palace, seating him in the place of honor on her right; Macmillan invited him to Admiralty House, after 20 minutes with Yuri pronounced him "a delightful fellow." A 23-year-old British nurse ambushed Yuri as he emerged from the Russian embassy, flung her arms around his neck for a solid kiss, proclaimed him "the most kissable man in the universe." Headline the Daily Mail: MAKE HIM SIR YURI!

Back in Moscow, Nikita Khrushchev, musing on Yuri's triumph, may well have decided that Gagarin's first flight into space would be his last: Public Relations Master Yuri was obviously too hot a talent to waste in space.

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